


You're Still Here

by merryghoul



Category: Burn Notice
Genre: Community: hc_bingo, F/M, Leather Kink, Scars, Sensation Play, Tattoos, Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-24
Updated: 2012-07-24
Packaged: 2017-11-10 16:15:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/468224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merryghoul/pseuds/merryghoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael knew something was wrong when Fiona hadn't called in hours.  Missing scene fic for "Hot Spot."</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're Still Here

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Backdraft](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/10082) by badboy_fangirl. 



> hc_bingo prompt: fire

Michael knew something was wrong when Fiona hadn't called in hours. It didn't take her long to sneak around in someone's home—she was an expert lock picker, after all. She'd even picked his way into his loft until he relented and gave her a key. 

Michael kept calling her, but he got the same damn voicemail every time he called: _"It's Fi. Leave a message."_

He decided to drive to the address Fiona gave him, the one where the shooter he was looking for lived. She didn't have to pretend to work with people who make those calendars with muscular men in various professions (firemen, policemen, "men of demolition," as Fiona put it) to find the shooter at a construction site, but she did. She didn't even have to stay in Miami. She came to Miami in part because she wanted to reconnect with Michael, but she stayed in Miami to help him out. She did it for _him._

As Michael was driving, he went through a list of scenarios in his head. He thought the house was booby trapped in some way, if Fiona was able to sneak in and not send a message of distress to Sam or him. The house couldn't have had a booby trap behind the door. Fiona would've been able to sense it or disable it. Maybe there was a booby trap inside the house…like a contact plate that could trigger a fire within the house. 

By the time Michael and the Charger arrived at the home of the shooter, there was a crowd of people watching firemen put out a fire. He ran to the fire, asking officials if there was a woman inside the house. He was only told a woman went inside the building.

He never noticed Fiona's car wasn't near the shooter's home. 

Thinking that Fiona had died over his quest to find the people that burned him, he went home. Miami being Miami, a thunderstorm came towards the city, and Michael and the Charger were caught up in it. By the time he arrived at the loft, he was soaking wet, still wondering if Fiona would pick up her phone.

He never noticed Fiona's car was parked about a block from his loft.

To his surprise, Fiona was in his loft. She had changed clothes. She was waving around her cell phone—she had burned it while waiting for a burnout in one of the house's windows. 

Michael walked up to Fiona and waited for her to finish talking. Then he kissed her, getting her wet in the process. It was supposed to be a comforting kiss, a kiss to reassure her he was happy she was still alive, but it went further. She wrapped her legs around his body, her arms around his back. He picked her up and took her to his bed.

Michael started kissing her neck. Fiona gasped and pulled off his shirt. In turn, Michael took a break and took off her blouse and bra. When Fiona tried to take off her bracelets and her watch with its leather wristband, Michael grabbed her hand. "Keep them on," he whispered. "I like them."

"I don't want them to break," Fiona said.

"You can buy more if they do."

Michael returned to kissing her neck. Fiona grabbed onto his back. Her nails and jewelry were digging in his back, and the leather was chafing it. He didn't care about the pain. He wanted to know that she was actually there with him in his bed, that he wasn't having sex with himself. (He didn't believe in ghosts.) 

There was more kissing and licking. Michael was getting Fiona wet, literally, but they didn't care. Michael rubbed and kissed her tattoos, as if to make sure this was the Fiona he knew, not some stranger who snuck into his loft. Fiona kissed his scars. Eventually Michael took off her pants and underwear. He then removed the rest of his clothes. Moments later, he went inside Fiona.

While he was inside her, his thoughts were racing. It wasn't too much that he couldn't perform, but it was enough to sense and remember a few things. Her nails, the jewelry and watch were still pressing against his back. He looked into her green eyes as she gasped and moaned. 

He remembered, in that moment, she was fond of Spanish omelets (egg whites only). He hoped she would stick around while he picked up the omelet for her. He envisioned them sitting at the kitchen, feeding her pieces of the omelet. 

For once he'd try to make Fiona feel appreciated. 

For now, he'd focus on finishing making love to Fiona and enjoy the moment. 

 

Michael got up before Fiona did. He went and took out a few breakfast items, including her omelets, from a local eatery, and returned to the loft.

He was disappointed when Carla snuck into the loft. There were signs that Michael and Fiona had sex on his bed. 

The loft smelled of sex, for one. The sheets were disheveled and dirty, stained with rain water, sweat and sexual fluids. Carla knew they had had sex the night before. But he was even more disappointed that Fiona had left while he was picking up her omelet.

 _I should've told her I was going to pick up breakfast,_ he thought.


End file.
